


Anything That Gets Your Blood Racing Is Probably Worth Doing

by CoLaLu24



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Naughty Sherlock, Oral Sex, Porn Video, Top John Watson, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2017-08-30
Packaged: 2018-12-21 19:44:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11951310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoLaLu24/pseuds/CoLaLu24
Summary: “A low moan escapes Sherlock’s parted lips. It seems to fill every corner of the room, to echo loud through the wide gap of the unclosed door. Loud in John’s ears. The man a silhouette in the shadows of the dimly lit hallway.“





	Anything That Gets Your Blood Racing Is Probably Worth Doing

**Author's Note:**

> Here's my second Johnlock fanfic. This time definitely not that much plot, but instead far more porn ;)  
> The title is actually a quote I found on the internet. "Anything that gets your blood racing is probably worth doing." - Hunter S. Thompson -  
> As always, please note that English isn't my first language. Therefore I apologise for any mistakes.  
> Anyway I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it :) Feedback's always welcome.

 

Sherlock’s eyes were fixed on the screen of his laptop. The electronic light blue on his pale face in the darkness of his bedroom. His widened pupils reflected the images that flickered over the monitor.

 

 

_A brown-haired man bends over the edge of a table. His nails scratching over the surface, leaving unmistakable evidences of what was happening._

_The man’s eyes closed, on his face the expression of pure pleasure and undeniable lust._

_An older man stands behind him, his cock buried deep inside the other’s arse. His fingers clenching into his shoulders. Marking his skin._

_Rhythmic movements pushing the younger man against the edge of the table. Pressing the wood into his hips with every relentless thrust. Pressing it against his leaking erection._

_Shiny drops of precome running down the brown-haired man’s hard dick. Dripping onto the table top._

_Strands of the older man’s blonde hair tingling on the other’s bare skin when he moves his tongue along his neck._

Sherlock’s breathing increased. His palms were covered by a thin layer of sweat, his fists gripped the soft fabric of his duvet. Slowly he let one hand slide under the blanket, under the waistband of his boxer shorts. His long fingers closed around the shaft of his throbbing cock. The hot flesh craving for his touch. Craving for release.

 

He roughly started to stroke his erection, his eyes never leaving the screen. A low moan escaped his parted lips. It seemed to fill every corner of the room, to echo loud through the wide gap of the unclosed door. Loud in John’s ears. The man a silhouette in the shadows of the dimly lit hallway.

 

 

\------oo----- One Day Ago -----oo-----

 

 

“On this stick are the pictures and films we were finally able to find after the confession of the blackmailer,” Lestrade said proudly and presented the small black USB-stick to the two men in front of him.

“Don’t you want to show them to us? At least it was me who solved the case,” Sherlock asked, impatiently as always. John just rolled his eyes at the consulting detective’s childish behaviour.

 

“Well…” the DI murmured and a slight blush covered his cheeks. “Actually the material is rather… ‘delicate’. I thought that maybe the victim of the blackmailer wouldn’t want that… You know… And besides I don’t think that it is…”

“Ah Jeff that’s the problem, don’t think or don’t try to think that much. That would make many things easier for everybody,” the curly-haired man interrupted him and pulled the stick out of his fist.

 

“Thank you, John will bring it back tomorrow, right John?”

“Sherlock, you can’t…” Lestrade started an half-hearted attempt to stop the younger man.

John just shrugged his shoulders, while looking at the grey-haired DI. “Guess we should let him watch these videos, otherwise he will fuss us forever. See you tomorrow Greg,” the smaller man sighed and tried to hurry after the consulting detective, who had already reached the exit.

 

<> 

 

”Then let’s see what Lestrade wanted to withhold us…“ the brown-haired man murmured while plugging the stick into his laptop. John stood behind him, his fingers closed around the back of Sherlock’s chair, both eyes directed at the screen.

 

The younger man’s fingers flickered over the touchpad, scrolling through the files on the stick. With a double click he opened up the first short clip. A slightly blurred image of a bedroom appeared on the screen. It didn't seem to be taken with the help of professional filming equipment, but after a few seconds the camera focussed and John and Sherlock could clearly see what was happening in the room.

 

_There are two men on a large bed. One man, the younger one, lies on his stomach on the mattress, his fists clenched into the silken sheets. The other kneels above him, his legs left and right to his hips. His cock is buried between the man’s arsecheeks, deep inside his body. He pushes his length into the man underneath him in fast thrusts. Their mouths escaping obscene moans._

 

Moans that seemed unbearably loud in the living room of 221B. Sherlock swallowed at the sight in front of him. Who could have guessed that the man had been blackmailed with his own private amateur porn-clips? Absent-mindedly Sherlock pulled out the stick and tossed it onto the table. The sound stopped and the image on the screen disappeared into nothingness, but it seemed to be burned into the brains of both men.

 

Silence stretched over them. Heavy and uncomfortable. Falling over them like a veil. After seconds that seemed like an eternity to Sherlock, John finally cleared his throat. ”Well, I can understand why this man wouldn't have… liked it, if these clips had been published,“ he said with a husky voice and left the living room.

 

If the film hadn’t distracted him that much, the younger man would have heard the sharp intake of breath behind him. He would have realised that John had dug his nails into the soft wood of the chair until they had left visible marks. That his pupils had dilated as soon as the first image of the clip had showed up.

 

Sherlock’s tensed muscles relaxed a bit and he took a deep breath, when he heard that John had closed the door to his room behind him. The younger man realised that he had clenched his long fingers into fists. His nails had tore open the skin of his palms, a few drops of blood were running out of the fine lines they had left on the insides of his hands.

 

Why had this video left such an impression on him? Normally sex was something that didn’t alarm him. It was something that existed and was obviously an indispensible part of the daily life of many people, but for him it wasn’t something essential. _Usually._ Sherlock shifted into his chair and felt his slightly hardened dick straining against his trousers. Something like this didn’t happen to him. Not to Sherlock Holmes.

 

He closed his laptop and pushed back his chair, the legs creaking over the floor. _Distraction._ He needed to distract himself. To banish this video from his mind. To stop the constant replay that showed the two men on this bed over and over again. _“This awful, disturbing clip,”_ Sherlock thought, even tough he knew that this was a lie. That he lied to _himself_. He could still feel the undeniable evidence for this lie pulsing hot in his pants.

 

With a growl he made his way to the bathroom and locked the door behind him. His long fingers closed around the edge of the sink and he looked into the mirror. His eyes locked with his mirror image’s. They were dark and dilated. The light blue colour almost completely swallowed by the blackness of his pupils.

 

Sherlock turned on the cold water and splashed it onto his face, enjoying the feeling of the stinging drops running down his cheeks, until they soaked into his shirt, darkening the light purple colour and sticking the fabric to his skin.

 

Slowly he started to calm down and order his thoughts. Another thing came to his mind: Where was John? Was he still in his room? He had left the living room so fast after Sherlock had plugged out the USB-stick that it had seemed like a flight. But a flight to do what?

 

Finally the consulting detective came to two conclusions, why the older man had reacted like this.

First: The situation was too embarrassing for him and as a straight man he had no intention to watch such videos and of course not in the presence of his flatmate.

Or second: He wasn’t as straight as he always used to state it.

But he couldn’t neither proof nor deny one of the two assumptions.

 

Sherlock turned on the water in the shower cabin and opened up the buttons of his shirt to toss it onto the floor. His remaining clothes followed a few moments later. When he stepped into the shower he enjoyed the feeling of the drops pattering down onto his skin. Wetting his dark curls, running down his arms, his chest, along his still hard cock.

 

Teasingly he brushed his fingers over his erection. Even a man like Sherlock Holmes enjoyed the feeling of an overwhelming orgasm that rushed through his veins. Even a man like him sometimes craved to feel the heat that spread inside him, when release flooded over him. Especially after the solution of a case, with the fading feeling of adrenaline pulsing through his body.

 

But not now. He would spare it for another opportunity… A smirk appeared on his face, but he also couldn't understand himself. “ _Sherlock Holmes what are you doing?”_ Or rather, what are you planning to do with your flatmate?

 

<> 

 

When Sherlock stepped into the kitchen on the next morning, John sat at the table and sipped his tea.

“Morning,” he murmured from behind his mug and directed his eyes on the newspaper on the table again.

 

”Morning John,“ Sherlock said and filled his own mug with tea and sat down as well. ”I thought that the video…“ he started his sentence, but was almost instantly interrupted by John, who stood up in a swift movement and drowned his remaining tea.

 

”I’ve to go to the clinic. Had to change a shift. I don’t know when I’ll be back. I’m going to meet Greg after work.“ He’d talked a mile in a minute and could even have been a serious competitor for Sherlock. Then the doctor disappeared through the doorframe. From the hallway the rustling of his jacket could be heard and then the door to their flat was closed.

 

Sherlock still sat on his chair, mug in hands and stared after John. Stared into the empty doorframe in front of him. _Interesting._ Why hadn’t John wanted to speak with him? _Conclusion two suddenly seemed more and more realistic._

 

When Sherlock stood up and went to the living room, his gaze moved to his laptop that still lay on the table. He couldn’t spot the USB-stick anywhere. Maybe John had taken it with him to hand it back to Lestrade. The brown-haired man absent-mindedly moved his fingers over the metallic surface of his notebook. Cold and smooth under his fingertips.

 

What if he was right? What if conclusion two _was_ the truth? Sherlock wanted to figure it out. And why don’t combine it with something… pleasurable? Pleasurable for both of them. _If he was right_.

 

 

\------oo----- ooo -----oo------

 

 

A low moan escaped Sherlock’s parted lips. It seemed to fill every corner of the room, to echo loud through the wide gap of the unclosed door. Loud in John’s ears. The man a silhouette in the shadows of the dimly lit hallway.

 

Sherlock’s hand gripped tighter around his erection. Tighter around his hot flesh, feeling it pressing against his palm. Teasingly he moved his thumb over the slit at the head of his cock to circle it around. His rough finger on the most sensitive spot of his dick elicited another growl from the brown-haired man.

 

He used his other hand to remove the blanket from his upper body, so that his cock finally sprung free. The shiver of air deliciously cold when it enfolded him. Drops of leaking precome glistened in the pale light of the laptop screen, slowly running down his heated skin until he spread them with his firm strokes along his length.

 

Sherlock felt his climax building inside him. Threatening to relentlessly wash over him. He lifted his hips off of the mattress, bucking them upwards in undeniable pleasure. His breathing was ragged and shallow and he couldn’t keep another moan from escaping his mouth. It sounded loud in his ears, loud in the room. But despite it, he could hear an answering gasp breaking the silence in the hallway. Through the door he’d left ajar on purpose.

 

-.-.-.-

 

John still stood in front of Sherlock’s bedroom. Covered by the thick darkness, hidden from the younger man’s view. His own cock strained uncomfortably against the fabric of his pants. Uncomfortably and _needing_. Demanding for attention.

 

His eyes were fixed on Sherlock’s body. _His gorgeous body._ On his skin that seemed to shimmer in the dimly lit room. On his long fingers that were wrapped around his throbbing erection. Stroking up and down. _Oh God, Sherlock._

 

John had just returned from the pub where he’d met Greg. But when he’d climbed up the stairs to their flat, it had seemed like Sherlock had already moved to his bedroom. Something which would have been quite unusual for the younger man. John had gone into the direction of Sherlock’s room and now here he was…

 

Thousand different thoughts were in John’s mind. Thousand different options what to do. If it were a film, Sherlock would moan his name when he was swallowed by his orgasm. But this was no film. Instead the doctor stood in the hallway of 221B like a voyeur. Yes, this was what he was. Nothing more than a man, who got an erection from hearing his flatmate getting off.

 

He should have gone back to his room and forget about what he’d seen. Pretend to him that he’d never seen it. Fuck this damn video. It had brought back long forgotten, long _suppressed_ desires. But John was unable to just _go_. _He didn’t want to_. It was as if his legs weren’t connected to his brain anymore. Or was it now another part of his body that acted on his own and seemed to control him?

 

Sherlock groaned again and John was pulled out of his thoughts. The sound sent shivers down his spine and let his insides tighten. He couldn't resist any longer and cupped his straining cock through his trousers, squeezed it between his fingers. He felt blood rushing through it under his fingertips. Hot and pulsing. A moan escaped his mouth. _Fuck._ He put his fist onto his mouth and bit into his knuckles. Desperately trying to suppress the evidence of his presence, but it was too late.

 

Sherlock abruptly stopped the stroking movements of his hand and shut his laptop. The room was now almost covered in complete darkness that enfolded everything. John didn’t dare to move. Didn’t dare to _breathe_. He just stood in the hallway, his back pressed against the wall next to the door.

 

Footsteps approached. Barely audible. His beating heart echoed loud in John’s ears, almost swallowing every other sound. Should he try to run back to his room? No, it was too late nevertheless. Sherlock had already heard that it was him who eavesdropped in front of his room. But what would he say? John’s teeth were dug deep into the flesh of his hand. His eyes wide open, although he could see nothing in the darkness.

 

Seconds elapsed, as slow as minutes. Seconds full with uncertainty of what would happen next. John winced in shock when he suddenly felt warm fingers brushing over his cheek, making their way down his cloth covered chest until they… _Oh God!_ John groaned when he felt Sherlock’s hand cupping his still hard cock through his pants., tightening around the throbbing flesh.

 

“Sherlock,” John growled and clenched his hand into the younger man’s curls. Pulling him closer to his body. Sherlock hissed and grabbed John’s wrist to pull him into his bedroom. While he guided them both to the bed, he switched on the lamp on his nightstand. _What a pity it would be if they weren’t able to see each other._

Sherlock roughly pushed John onto the mattress and climbed into the bed as well. He looked down onto the older man underneath him, his eyes dark and dilated. John’s gaze moved up and down Sherlock’s body, scanning every centimetre of his revealed skin. _Enjoying_ every centimetre of it.

 

With a swift movement he grabbed Sherlock’s arm and pulled him down, so that his face was at the same height as John’s. Both men felt the other’s breath brushing over their faces. Hot and wet. Sherlock’s erection was pressed against John’s leg and the younger man rutted it harder against him. Rubbing it along his leg. Making clear what he wanted. What he _needed_.

 

They looked into each other’s eyes. Blue looking into blue. Widened pupils seeming to swallow everything. John inhaled the unmistakable scent of Sherlock’s arousal. Musky and heavy in the air. It sent shivers down his spine, made his blood rushing even faster through his veins. _Was this really happening?_

 

He inhaled deeply and pushed his mouth onto Sherlock’s. _Yes, this was real_. The touching of their lips felt as if sparks of electricity would flood through his body. John moved his tongue over Sherlock’s plush lower lip. Sucked it into his mouth. Teased it with his teeth. The younger man groaned in response, pulling the smaller man closer to his body. John moved his tongue into Sherlock’s mouth to feel even more of him. To taste all of him. To get completely lost in him.

 

John finally separated their mouths and instead slid down, feeling Sherlock’s erection brushing along his leg. His face was just mere centimetres away from the younger man’s bare chest. Seeing it lifting and lowering in the rhythm of Sherlock’s fast and aroused breathing.

 

Slowly John let his tongue dart out of his mouth and licked over Sherlock’s right nipple. The younger man reacted instantly. He bucked his hips and clenched his long fingers into the sheets. Encouraged by the signs of pleasure the younger man showed, John sucked the whole nipple into his mouth and relentlessly circled his tongue over it. He felt it harden under his teasing movements.

 

Sherlock fumbled with the button of John’s trousers until he was able to open them up. When he hooked some fingers into the waistband of John’s pants, the doctor released the man’s nipple with an obscene sound, leaving it stiff and glistening with his saliva. He lifted his hips so that the younger man could slide his trousers along his legs to finally toss them onto the floor.

 

John felt Sherlock’s gaze resting on his boxer briefs. On his erection that strained against them. On the visible patch of precome that had darkened the fabric. Sherlock slowly, almost _seductively_ licked along his lips that were swollen from their kissing. His eyes never leaving the bulge in John’s pants.

 

Sherlock’s long fingers moved under John’s shirt and brushed over his skin. He drew circles with his fingertips, teasing the man with what he did. Or rather with what he did _not_. When John clenched his fingers into Sherlock’s upper arm, the younger man finally stopped his teasing and used one hand to slide down John’s boxer shorts a little bit so that he could pull his cock and balls out of them.

 

John shivered when the cold air in Sherlock’s bedroom strove over his heated skin. But the feeling was interrupted almost as fast as it had hit him, as Sherlock pushed John’s cock deep into his mouth. The older man gasped for air and his hand was immediately back in Sherlock’s messy curls.

 

When Sherlock moved his tongue over the slit at the head of John’s cock, a moan escaped his parted lips. How long had it been? How long had he wanted this?

“Fuck, Sherlock,” he growled and pulled on the man’s hair. Sherlock’s tongue moved along his cock, over the veins that covered the thin skin and John already felt his orgasm building deep inside him.

 

John slung his legs around Sherlock’s back, forcing his cock deeper into him. He felt the tip of his dick brushing against the younger man’s throat. How much more could he take? “Sherl… I… I’m gonna…” John muttered incoherently, but Sherlock understood. He sucked John’s dick even deeper into his mouth and swallowed around him. The drops of precome bitter and salty on his tongue.

 

Everything turned white in front of John’s eyes, when his orgasm washed over him. Colourful sparks danced in his vision, when he shot thick stripes of come into Sherlock’s mouth. He pressed the younger man against him for one last time, wallowing in the sensations of his climax, until he finally released Sherlock out of his legs.

 

John breathed heavily, still in the aftermath of his orgasm. He grabbed Sherlock’s arm and pulled him up, so that he could press his lips onto Sherlock’s. He moaned deep into the other man’s mouth, when he tasted the fading scent of his cum. His own arousal combined with Sherlock’s indescribable taste. _Glorious._

 

His tongue still plundered the younger man’s mouth, when his fingers reached for Sherlock’s cock. It strained rock-hard against his palm. Sherlock bucked his hips to higher the friction of John’s hand against his erection and the older man felt the hot flesh pressing against him.

 

“Do you have… You know,” John moaned when he finally parted their mouths.

“Nightstand,” Sherlock muttered as response and John felt the corners of his mouth twitch up a little bit. The great Sherlock Holmes, the world’s only consulting detective overwhelmed by his own arousal. _Who would have thought this?_

 

John reached for the bedside table and grabbed the bottle of lube that’d already stood on top of it. Or who would have thought that Sherlock Holmes stored a bottle of lube in his bedroom? He flipped open the cap of the tube and poured some of it on his hand. The cold liquid slowly running down his fingers, glistening in the light.

 

”Turn around. On your hands and knees,“ John whispered into Sherlock’s ear. A shiver ran down the younger man’s body, but he obeyed willingly. After he had steadied himself on his hands, John trailed his slick fingers down Sherlock’s pale skin. Down his spine and meanwhile used his other hand to part his arsecheeks.

 

Carefully he brushed the tip of his forefinger over Sherlock's puckered hole, seeing the ring of muscles twitch under his touch. But when he pushed his finger into his body, it slid in with one swift movement. “Oh Sherlock, have your own filthy long fingers already been in your arse?” John asked seductively while moving his finger deeper into the other’s body.

 

Sherlock just bucked his hips, but for John this was response enough. Without hesitation he added a second finger and pushed it inside, until it was buried to the second knuckle. He spread them, to constantly widen Sherlock’s hole, to make him ready. Ready for him.

 

John could see the puckered hole opening and closing around his fingers and the sight drove him mad. He shifted onto the mattress and lowered his head, so that his face was right in front of Sherlock’s gorgeous arse.

 

The younger man inhaled sharply when he realised what John was about to do. His fists clenched the sheets in the moment he felt the tip of John’s tongue moving along his back and further down, until he let it sink in between his arsecheeks.

 

John’s fingers still remained in Sherlock’s arse. He spread them further apart, opening his hole so that he could dip his tongue into it. It was indescribable. Sherlock’s musky scent overwhelmed him. The younger man moaned at the feeling of John's tongue in this region of his body. That was far beyond what he’d expected. But he absolutely wouldn't want it to stop.

 

Instead Sherlock bucked his hips backwards to feel John’s tongue sinking even deeper into his body. The older man shifted the angle of his fingers a little bit, searching for the bundle of nerves inside Sherlock’s arse. The younger man moaned, a moan John had never heard before. Low and guttural, completely filled with pleasure. Every time John's fingers brushed over Sherlock's prostate felt like a little electric shock that tingled in his whole body. He could have come from this alone.

 

A small whimper escaped Sherlock’s parted lips when John removed his tongue and his fingers from his arse. Leaving him open and ready for him. And he wanted so much to feel John’s cock sliding into his body. To feel his hole widening around the heated flesh. With a squeezing sound John poured some of the lube onto his erection and spread it with fast, impatient strokes.

 

The head of his cock lingered right in front of Sherlock’s loose hole and John had to summon up all his strength not to relentlessly thrust into the man in front of him. He wanted to enjoy it. To enjoy the sensation when his dick was slowly enveloped by the younger man’s hot and tight arse.

 

Slowly John slid the first centimetres of his cock into the brown-haired man. It was like heaven. For Sherlock the feeling was unusual at first. Something he had never felt before. It was something entirely different than when he pleasured himself with his fingers. But it felt a million times better and he wanted to feel even _more_. John still wallowed in the feeling of the younger man’s hole twitching around the head of his dick, when Sherlock suddenly bucked his hips backwards and forced him to involuntarily bury the first half of his cock inside his arse.

 

John gasped for air and his hands shot forward to seek hold on the brown-haired man’s back. His nails dug deep into his skin, leaving unmistakable bruises.

”John, come on, move…“ Sherlock moaned into the doctor’s direction and now it was John who obeyed. He slid the remaining part of his cock into the younger man’s arse, enjoying the feeling for a few seconds. But when Sherlock clenched his arsecheeks around his cock, he understood that the younger man didn't want to wait anymore. Oh and John’s last intention was to let him wait. Instead he started to relentlessly thrust into Sherlock.

 

The air was filled with the sound of their bodies clashing together. Filled with their moans and gasps that indicated the building of their orgasms.

 

With almost every of his thrusts, John brushed his cock against Sherlock’s prostate. And every time Sherlock’s vision went white and colours seemed to dance in front of his eyes. John removed one hand from the younger man’s back and reached around his hips, to close his still slick fingers around Sherlock’s throbbing cock. It was rock-hard against his palm and he started to stroke it in the same rhythm as he steadily thrust his dick into Sherlock’s arse.

 

Precome ran along Sherlock's cock, dripping over John’s fingers. The older man squeezed his hand around the heated flesh and this was everything Sherlock had needed. There were far too many sensations to bear for him. The constant pulsing of his prostate when the head of John’s cock brushed against it. John’s rough hand that stroked and squeezed his cock. John’s moans that echoed in his ears. _John_. Sherlock came hard. Thick stripes of come shot out of his dick, spurting over John’s fingers, over his own stomach. Marking the sheets with the undeniable evidence of what they’d done.

 

Sherlock’s muscles convulsed when he was overwhelmed by his orgasm and his arse tightened around John’s cock. “Oh _God_ ,” John gasped and thrust into Sherlock for one last time, until he pumped his semen deep inside his body.

 

Indulging himself in the feeling of his fading climax, John steadily slowed down his movements and finally pulled out his softening dick. Breathing heavily he collapsed onto the mattress and only seconds later Sherlock laid down as well.

 

The brown-haired man looked to the figure of John, whose head rested on the pillows. His hair was dishevelled and the aftermath of his orgasms combined with fading lust were almost readable in his dark and misty eyes.

_”Yes, assumption two. And definitely pleasurable for both of us. Maybe even something worth repeating.“_ Sherlock inwardly smirked and slowly brushed one finger along John’s heated cheek.


End file.
